


Pumpkin Head

by Sterek_Eternally



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Awkward Conversations, Bets & Wagers, Derek Hale is a Little Shit, First Meetings, M/M, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pumpkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sterek_Eternally/pseuds/Sterek_Eternally
Summary: The Hale Pumpkin Patch opening was an anticipated event in Beacon Hills; so of course Stiles had wrecked the decorations for said event. And if his night wasn't bad enough already, Stiles only had to get caught by wild-child Derek Hale. At least the pumpkin stuck persistently on his head hid his identity; and there must be an upside to having a Buzzfeed article written about him, right?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59
Collections: A Very Sterek Fall 2020





	Pumpkin Head

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 (October 10th) of A Very Sterek Fall.
> 
> AVSF Entry (probably first, probably only, we'll see) I was actually writing a sequel to this fic for the event, but the scene was too loud and contained too many Disney movie references for me to not make it it's own thing.

This was stupid.

Why had Stiles believed this was a good idea? Because it absolutely was not. How many braincells had he lost to make him think that trusting Jacksass Whinymore was a terrific plan? Thumbs up, past self, great job.

Stiles knew exactly what would happen when agreeing to this stupid bet. But still, Stiles had let his guard down. For $50. And now look at him. In the middle of the preserve, stumbling around with a pumpkin lodged on his head, and no directions home. This was exactly how he had wanted to spend his Saturday.

At least the pumpkin was carved in the stereotypical triangle eyes and jigsaw mouth. And although it wasn’t much, it still helped Stiles see clearer in the pitch black. Because the moon had decided to stay unhelpful and the leaves had only begun to brighten to yellow or orange or red.

Otherwise, they might have fallen off their branches and cleared the path for light. But that would’ve made the bet easier. And then there'd be no challenge. Doesn’t mean he couldn’t stay salty about it though.

It would be a miracle if he even managed to find his way out before morning, or before his dad realizes he wasn’t curled up in his bed sleeping off a late nighter.

Oh, it hit Stiles just how embarrassing that would be. No doubt his dad would call all of his deputies to look for his missing son. They’d be roaming the streets, alerting people, ordering search parties. They’d have the canine unit out in the preserve, especially with all of the animal attacks. And after all that they'd end up finding the Sherriff’s son wandering around in the woods because of a stupid bet and a pumpkin that was stuck on his head. And he dreamt of living head butting Lydia Martin in the 3rd grade down. This would be told to his great-great-great grandkids.

If that wasn’t motivation enough to get out of here soon. Stiles really didn’t want this to go on the refrigerator list of stupid shit that Stiles did, co-written by Dad Stilinski and Scott McCall.

It was also cold. Not as cold as it could have been, but it was still smack in the middle of fall. Stiles was only wearing one layer; the one time in which he had chosen to wear one layer, and he was strolling around the woods at night. Though the shivers that tingled through his body, small and shocking as they were, weren’t only from the cold and more from an unbalanced mixture of biting breezes and uneasiness of creepy shadows moving in the corner of his eyes.

It especially didn’t help that his mind liked to helpfully supply him with exactly how many cases of animal attacks reported had happened in these woods. And Stiles was started to realise just how stupid and dangerous this was.

A twig snapped. Stiles spun around. What was that—Only to see a yellow-y glow not far ahead. Light. Stiles blinked. It can’t have been that easy, right? Another twig snapped, a scurry of feet across damp leaves. Okay, Stiles jumped forward, he was moving. Anything was better than staying out here.

Just keep moving, moving, moving.

To his relief the small red barn he had come across didn’t look like it hosted a serial killer. And he was more than happy to welcome the sight of a dozen carved and glowing pumpkins stacked on tables and in corners. Even though their creepy yellow faces seemed to be looking right at him.

Stiles jumped over a hay stack to get into the pumpkin patch. But not at the expense of a pumpkin. He was ready to break into dance at his $50 winnings when he felt it crack under his shoe until it enveloped it completely.

Stiles hopped around, trying to shake it off, but the weight of the pumpkin was too heavy, and he tripped and crashed into the display table, sending pumpkins rolling in the grass. While on the floor, groaning as the wind was knocked out of him, Stiles read the sign on the banners. Hale Pumpkin Patch. Huh. That made sense.

Hale Pumpkin Patch was the only pumpkin patch in Beacon Hills. What would the chances be of him stumbling upon a completely new one unless he had walked his way into another town.

But it didn't matter as long as Stiles was able to get this stupid pumpkin off his head, find a way to gain freedom from the pumpkin on his foot and clean up all— _that_. Stiles should be fine. Only less likely to ever want to deal with pumpkins ever again. Stiles prepared himself for a good thirty minutes of tugging, and not the fun kind, when a throat cleared behind him. Oh shit.

“This is private property” Stiles knew that voice. Maybe If he froze for long enough it’d be like he wasn’t there. Quick, act like a scarecrow.

“Um—hello?” Well, that was a double no. New plan: don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Stiles wouldn’t be able to handle the pretty.

“Did you hear me? This is private property” Stiles snorted and turned around. That plan was down the drain. “Seriously? That’s your response? Not oh why in the world is there a pumpkin floating over there, or better yet why is it on somebody’s head? No, just ugh another miscreant let me go rough ‘em up. Don’t you have any self-preservation skills?” Stiles was the last person to be talking about self-preservation skills, but at least he had some. Most of the time. More than Derek Hale anyway.

Did Derek just give him the confused puppy eyes? Those were definitely confused puppy eyes, he thought only Scott was able to produce those bad boys. See? No self-preservation skills and no manners. It’s not fair for him to use those on people, they’re bad for the heart.

“This is private property” Derek repeated. Again. Stiles huffed.

“Yes, I know. I heard the first time. Just let me clean this up and I’ll be on my way” And he began doing just that. If he didn’t have a hand around his bicep, dragging him into the barn. Stiles protested quite loudly. Which earned him a vicious furrowing of eyebrows. Too bad for Derek, Stiles wasn’t going anywhere with the pumpkin still on his foot. So, ha, take that! But it didn’t deter him in the slightest.

“Dude, c’mon, I cannot move. What are you feeding these pumpkins their heavier than dumbbells." Derek ignored him. Which was fine, just fine. It wasn’t like Stiles was stuck half limping half hopping half being dragged wherever Derek went.

Stiles was pushed to sit on a stack of hay, and Jesus that was uncomfortable. Stiles was generally okay with the idea of things poking him in the ass but not hundreds of sharp and tiny pieces of straw in his butt cheeks.

Derek kneeled down in front of him with a firm grip on his calf.

“Woah buddy. Y’know this isn’t Cinderella, right? Aren’t you supposed to be putting a shoe on lady feet anyway? I’m pretty sure I’m the carriage. The over glorified modern fairy tale taxi.” He said this with a smile. And jazz hands. He heard a huff in response but couldn’t figure out if it was laughter or irritation. He decided to just take it as his Disney references being appreciated.

“Wait here.” Derek disappeared around the corner before Stiles could blink.

“For what? Dude please don’t tell your parents. I swear I’ll clean everything up” He didn’t get an answer. And was stuck sitting on the torture stack in suspense. Stiles really didn’t want to put up with the Hales’. Especially Talia Hale. That woman was scary. Was it the jazz hands? But everyone loves jazz hands!

Derek came back around the corner with a grimace on his face.

“I’m going to get your foot out of the pumpkin. The pumpkin that I carved” Oh Shit. What were the legitimate chances of him smashing Derek’s pumpkin. Like twenty to one with the size of the Hale family. Of course. It was fine. Stiles would just apologize, and all would be forgiven.

And then Derek took a hammer out from behind his back.

Stiles could hear ‘The Shining’ music playing in his head as Derek got closer and closer.

He scooted back as far as he could go. "L—Look dude, I'm sorry I destroyed your pumpkin— it’s beautiful really —and for knocking over the decorations, I swear I’ll clean it up. But murder is taking it a little bit too far, don’t ya think?" Stiles pressed against the barn wall and was especially glad that he was wearing a pumpkin because then there was a chance of Derek missing his skull.

“I’m not going to kill you dumbass. I need to smash the pumpkin so I can get your foot out.” Oh.

“Oh. Well, carry on then.” Stiles might’ve just been high on adrenaline, but he swore that was a smirk tugging at Derek’s lips. Not that he was looking. Much.

The hammer lifted. Stiles clenched his eyes shut. The air rushed besides him and his body tensed and then the odd cracking of the pumpkin broke the tension in his body. Stiles opened his eyes and was very delighted to see that both of his legs were perfectly intact.

“That was anti-climactic." You’d think someone swinging a hammer at your foot would be more of an experience, right? Stiles was a little disappointed.

Stiles wiggled his feet now that both of them were free but then got distracted as small huffs escaped Derek. Was that laughter? That was definitely laughter. Stiles had to shove down the urge to puff out his chest in pride. It wasn’t too hard when he watched the breaths released rise into foggy clouds, and green eyes crinkling at him in amusement. And, god, the face. Derek was too adorable to not gape at. Rosy red cheeks, strawberry coloured nose and Stiles can’t even with the ears. Only that they were apple red and bad for his health.

Stiles was growing to like this pumpkin head more and more by the second. As long as it kept doing its job and kept his face from feeling the brunt of the autumn breeze. And keeping his identity a secret, that was a huge part, then they’re all good.

“I like you” Excuse me? Hold up. What?

Derek’s body was shaking from laughter aftershocks and didn’t seem to know the complete body shut down he had just caused or even looked the least bit sorry.

“Don’t do that to yourself." Okay see here, reason number one that Derek is not allowed to do these things to people. It causes a temporary removal of the brain to mouth filter that can go from awkward to colossal embarrassment at any time and that’s not good for anyone.

Example: there was absolutely nothing stopping Stiles from smashing his head against the wall behind him but the fact that if he smashed the pumpkin, his blotchy red gaping face would be up for view.

And then, the asshole has the gall to smirk at him and flash a hint of his bunny teeth. There was no way that Derek didn’t know what he was doing.

“Why not?” Stiles swears it’s the pumpkin making him want to fall forward. It’s heavy.

“Dude I’ve literally got my head stuck in a pumpkin.” And I put it there, is what he didn’t say, because it wasn’t technically all of his doing.

Derek smiled. Stiles froze and then fucking melted. "Speaking of, let's get this off. I doubt it’s comfortable"

Stiles caught Derek’s wrists before they could touch the pumpkin.

"No.”

Hazel eyes seared through his soul “I—I mean, it doesn’t bother me. Really” He emphasized at Derek’s disbelieving look “It’s actually quite comfortable you should try it. We could make a trend out of it or something”

“I’ll pass thanks.” Derek quirked an eyebrow and Stiles sighed. Disaster averted.

Derek fell down next to him on the hay bed and didn’t seem to have any issues with straw stabbing him in the butt. Though, Derek’s butt was probably made of steel. A puny piece of straw wouldn’t stand a chance against the cheeks of steel. "For someone who says they're not Cinderella, you sure like to keep your mask on." Stiles sputtered indignantly as Derek grinned.

“Here." Derek shook off his coat and let it fall onto Stiles’ drawn shoulders. The air escaped him at the weight, but it was so fluffy and thick and warmed his body so fast that Stiles didn’t care. He almost wished that he could feel it’s softness on his cheeks if it wouldn’t be creepy. And then Stiles remembered that he was actively sniffing the material around his neck, trying to put his finger on the spicy smell that was soaked into the jacket.

"Cinnamon?" Stiles guessed and hoped Derek hadn’t noticed that he had been sniffing his jacket.

“My sister runs a candle shop and makes them for a living. The cinnamon one is my favourite, and I get access to it year round instead of waiting ‘till it’s in season. It’s funny, I can’t stand cinnamon in food.”

“You heathen.” Stiles glared. Scooting away from a laughing Derek. Part of him was glad he had moved away, the side of his body where Derek had been pressed up against was scorching hot. And the other part wanted things that Stiles wasn't ready to look into.

Stiles took the comfortable silence to inhale as much of the cinnamon scent as he could. He was for sure getting him some of this, even if he had to take the risk and face a Hale.

“I was right. I do like you” Stiles choked on his spit as he turned to look at Derek’s amused face. But he couldn’t think of anything to say. In short, Stiles was speechless. And that made twice in five minutes. A new record.

“Why?” Stiles wanted to get off of this topic before his heart burst from his chest. But like he said, Derek equals no brain to mouth filter.

“What’s not to like?” Oh my god can this man not answer a question!?

“What do you mean what’s not to like? I’ve destroyed like two thirds of the decorations for the opening tomorrow, and you aren’t even mad. That’s not exactly a likeable quality.” Stiles wanted Derek to take just one look outside at the chaos he had caused.

“It’s funny” Derek shrugged. Shrugged. As if he wasn’t the single cause of Stiles’ lack of words. “It’s funny” Stiles repeated.

“I don’t understand what’s not to like. You broke into my family’s farm—” “I didn’t break in, and also you’re just proving my point” Stiles pointed out, “—strolled around with a pumpkin on your head and one stuck on your foot. You don’t seem to understand how fucking weird this first meeting has been--” Well that was true, Stiles couldn’t begrudge him for that. “—I like it.” Stiles was not prepared for this. “And you don’t even seem to want to take off the stupid pumpkin head, even though I know it’s uncomfortable. You think I grew up on a farm and not stuck my head in a pumpkin?” Okay, that was fair.

Derek sat up and leaned forward. Stiles didn’t know why he’d backed up, it’s not like Derek would be able to do anything – not that he would anyway – and now his finger was bleeding. A piece of hay nestled itself beneath Stiles’ skin, and before Stiles could protest, Derek pulled his hand closer and plucked it out.

“Ow!” 

Derek snorted. Well screw him. That fucking hurt.

“You want me to kiss your boo-boo better?” Yes, Stiles did want that. Very much. Wait. No, no, Stiles did not want that! His heart wasn’t going to make it!

Derek brought the finger to his lips, and pressed a chaste kiss on the fingertip, staring at him with glinting eyes.

This was how he was going to die? Death by Derek because his weak heart couldn’t take the magnificent – evil, but still magnificent -- man? Derek hummed “Maybe a bit more like sleeping beauty then?”

Stiles’ hand trembled “Uh—I’ve got to go. I’ve got a time limit before I need to make my way back—summoning circles am I right? Bye!” Stiles shrugged the coat off and zoomed out of there. Vaulting over the hay stack and into the preserve. Derek’s voice called out behind him, but Stiles could barely hear it over the thumping of his heart.

He was glad that no one (read: Derek) came after him. He was barely holding up with the ache in his neck from the weight of the pumpkin swinging side to side as he run. Stiles wouldn’t stand a chance against a star basketball player. He kept moving forward. From the Hale property onward should lead him to the main road. Hopefully, Scott hadn’t gotten distracted by Allison and was completing his duty as best bro, making laps around the preserve in his Baby while waiting for him.

He stumbled and gasped his way past the tree line and onto concrete, flagging Scott down. “Okay let’s get this over with.” Stiles lifted his body up and put himself at Scott’s mercy.

It took over an hour, sweat, a rock and a bar of butter. But both of them were in the jeep finally on their way home with the pumpkin seated in Stiles’ lap.

His entire body was covered in the smell of pumpkin, cinnamon and butter. But Stiles couldn’t say he minded.

* * *

Stiles sat opposite his father. A newspaper between them.

“So Stiles, care to tell me your thoughts?” Stiles knew they would sit here until Stiles eventually caved and told the truth. The downside of having your dad be the Sheriff. But that didn’t mean Stiles wasn’t going to at least try and get out of it.

“I hope they didn’t hurt their brains trying to come up with that name, because it’s stupid—"He began pointing out. “Not that Stiles. Have you got any guesses on who our ‘mysterious man-like creature’ is, son?” His father asked, tapping his fingers on the table.

Stiles gulped.

“Nope. No. Not at all. Maybe it really is a creature. One that comes out like once in a lifetime. That sounds possible”

“Is that your final answer?” His dad peered over his coffee. “Yes?” Stiles guessed and knew immediately it wasn’t the correct one.

“Well then explain to me why this ‘creature’—” Since when had his dad learned to use air quotes? “—is wearing the flannel that your aunt made you." Fuck, he didn't think about that "Unless you want to tell me that someone broke into your bedroom last night, stole the flannel and proceeded to become the newest trend on the internet. If so we might need to up the security” Oh god, this was a trend?

“Y'know what? I’ll just go check” Stiles sprinted up the stairs “You do that” His father called after him.

Stiles launched himself into his computer chair, impatiently holding the power button until his laptop came on. He pulled up article after article on the mysterious-creature in the woods of Beacon Hills.

It was everywhere. Stiles was internet famous. There was article upon article upon article. It was a never ending list.

Stiles groaned and dropped his head on the table. He tugged at his hair and gnawed on his lip. Reading the titles and letting his head thud against the desk again.

That stupid name was forever seared into his brain.

The Pumpkin Head Man.


End file.
